


The Poisoned Pen

by Trishp



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: 18th Century, AU, Calligraphy, Drama & Romance, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, London
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-13
Updated: 2019-07-29
Packaged: 2019-09-17 12:54:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,221
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16974951
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Trishp/pseuds/Trishp
Summary: We meet Ren, the calligrapher, and gain some insight into his working arrangements with Snoke





	1. Ammo cegrotanti meddcus est ordtio (Words are as a physician to an afflicted spirit)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We meet Ren, the calligrapher, and gain some insight into his working arrangements with Snoke

* * *

Ren finished the last letter – k – with a flourish and placed his quill back in its holder, reaching for a piece of blotting paper at the same time. He looked at his work as he carefully dabbed away the excess ink. Its not too bad, he thought to himself, but definitely not his best. Usually working on a manuscript late in the evening calmed him. But something had unsettled him tonight, although he couldn’t pinpoint exactly what. He sighed aloud, standing up and stretching out the stiffness in his back and neck. Tonight was going to be hard. On nights like these, when his body and mind were still restless even after working on a manuscript, sleep would elude him. He’d toss and turn and his mind would inevitably drift back to times he’d rather forget. To his father and mother and to his home Millennium Manor, although to describe it as ‘home’ was a bit of an exaggeration. It was the place he’d lived with them, but it had rarely felt like home, like a place where he belonged. It had been filled with tension as his parents’ difficult relationship had inevitably fallen apart. His mother could no longer live with his fathers ‘indiscretions’, with her political career hanging in the balance, and they both struggled with the child they couldn’t handle and they couldn’t relate to. Their restless, anxious, angry child. A monster, his father had called him once, as he’d overheard them arguing. His mother had quickly come to his defence, but still the name had stuck. Was he really a monster all those years ago? He certainly was one now. He’d been called as much for the things he’d done. But even all those years ago, could they sense the person he would become? Was the monster always inside him, just waiting for the right time to come out? Or perhaps the right person to let it out he thought, letting out a dry laugh.

Walking across the room he turned his back on the small cot in the corner and grabbed his jacket. There was no use trying to sleep. He’d be tossing and turning all night until the memories engulfed him. Until the aching in his chest was so heavy that he could barely breathe. Perhaps a walk would help settle this strange sense inside him.

\---

London was still busy even at this time of night. It was just past 11 and the sun had set quite a few hours earlier, but there were still people bustling here and there. Ren walked without any particular destination in mind, trying to set aside the uneasiness he felt. He turned up the collar of his jacket to protect himself against the freezing night air and pulled his cowl over his head. His fists clenched under his gloves. Without really intending to, he found himself some minutes later down by the river. He could just make out the inky blackness of the Thames, flowing and seething in the darkness. The landscape was entirely different at night. No water traffic, no sight seers trying to catch a glimpse of the famous London Bridge. No hawkers selling newspapers or roasted chestnuts or tours of the city. Ren caught watched a piece of flotsam caught up in the swirling eddies of the current. The water was almost hypnotic. Ren leaned forward slightly. He wondered what would it feel like to throw himself into the current? Would it be peaceful, being carried along in the water’s swirling arms, like a piece of driftwood heading out to sea? Or would his body struggle against its depths, against the grasping icy fingers that fought to subdue him.

He was certainly being morbid tonight. Ren pushed those thoughts aside with an impatient sigh and headed back towards Supremacy House. Although he really had no reason to head back there in a hurry – it was not as if anybody was waiting up for him – he really had no where else he could think of to go at this time of night. There were the gambling houses and brothels of course but their attractions held little interest for him. He had no real acquaintances to visit and he hadn’t seen his parents since the day they ‘sold’ him to Snoke. He’d never been particularly sought-after company anyway, with his restless and sullen temperament, but now, after all the things he’d done, it seemed unimaginable to try and make small talk with his peers. He had no stories of visits or outings or balls to contribute. Only his work, and the other things Snoke had asked him to do, which he could never speak of. It was better this way, he told himself, as he headed back through the gates of the manor.

\---

It seemed the foreboding he’d felt had been a premonition of sorts. Hanging up his jacket upon returning to the house he’d noticed the note on his desk immediately. Come to me when you have returned, it commanded ominously. Ren’s stomach sank. He knew there was only one reason why he was being summoned.  
\---

Enter, the voice called from within, in response to his knock. Ren entered the room and dropped to one knee before his master, bowing his head and waiting for him to speak. Despite the time – it was almost 1 in the morning now - Snoke was waiting for him in his office; what Ren liked to refer to as Snoke’s ‘throne room’, although he’d never voice that aloud. It was where Snoke presided over his business dealings when in town. Snoke’s height meant that he towered over most people generally, although seated in his oversized armchair with the authority of someone who knew he held significant political and commercial sway in London, Snoke was nothing short of intimidating.

Ren could feel Snoke’s eyes scrutinising him as he kept his head bowed and waited to hear the reason for his summons. He knew this game well. Snoke would watch him silently until he broke and looked up, only to be reprimanded. It was his way of reminding Ren of the power he held over him. That he could not even move without Snoke’s expressed permission. That Snoke owned him absolutely.

“There has been a development,” Snoke eventually spoke into the silence, releasing him. “Your father, Han Solo, is back in London.” Snoke watched him carefully to gauge his reaction. A shudder went through Ren’s body at the news but he carefully kept his face as impassive as possible. He’d had years of practice schooling his emotions. Satisfied, Snoke continued, “I am afraid it is time to bring our business dealings to an end.” “I have lost patience with him and his continued excuses.” “He has failed to settle his debt time and time again.” Snoke paused again and then leaned closer, “So I am going to need to engage your particular talents to bring this business to an end.” Ren whipped up his eyes in horror, not fully comprehending what had just been said, his face whitening. “But Master...” he stuttered, before Snoke cut him off. “This is a test that even you have never faced the like of before.” “I trust you will not fail me.” Ren fixed his eyes firmly back on the floor, feeling his mind numbing. “By the grace of your training I will not fail, Master,” he replied. “Good,” said Snoke, “You may leave now”. Ren rose up mechanically and made to leave the room but before he could reach the door Snoke spoke again. “There is one more thing Ren.” “Yes Master,” he said, turning slowly, struggling to focus. “There is another manuscript I require you to transcribe for me.” “It is at the house of an old client.” “I will leave the address with Hux.” “You may collect it tomorrow.” “Yes Master,” said Ren, bowing, before closing the door behind him. Snoke’s eyes narrowed as he listened to the echo of Ren’s footsteps on the floor of the passageway, growing fainter as he headed back to his quarters. “Where do your loyalties lie boy?” he spoke softly to himself. “I guess we soon shall see…”


	2. Dum spiro spero (While I breathe, I hope)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sent on a mission by Snoke, Ren encounters Rey. He quickly finds that his usual methods of persuasion do not work on her

The next morning, he arrived at a small townhouse on the east side of London. He double checked the address on the piece of paper Hux had literally thrown at him as he had passed in the hallway after breakfast. This looked to be the right place, yet it was a grimy looking residence. The house was timber framed with a worn looking entry way. But someone had placed a single pot of flowers to the side of the timber door, which gave it a somewhat cheerful appearance, compared to the townhouses on the street. It was a rundown area and it stank of poverty and despair. Eager to leave as soon as he had fulfilled his task, he raised his gloved hand, lifted the knocker and banged it firmly against the metal base plate. He could faintly hear the sound of his knock echoing down the inner hallway but there were no footsteps in response, at least none that he could hear. He was about to impatiently lift the knocker again when a noise alerted him to the fact that the door was being opened. “Yes?” a quiet voice addressed him.

He looked down. The person who belonged to that voice was a young woman, several years younger than him, perhaps, and a great deal smaller. She was wearing her hair tied back in a simple bun and was dressed in a light grey day dress. She had dark circles under her eyes and a pallor to her skin. He took all these details in at a glance, as he was practiced at doing, before clearing his throat. “Good morning Miss, I would like to inquire as to whether the Master of the house is home and receiving guests this morning?” “I am afraid the Master is at home but he is currently indisposed”, she replied. Ren paused for a moment to evaluate his interlocutor. “Well, perhaps the Lady of the house is at home and able to receive me?” he inquired. To which the girl shook her head. Ren sighed impatiently, not used to being denied. Pulling back the cowl from his head, somehow hoping this would make their communication more effective, he cleared his throat again. “Would you, perhaps, know when the Lady will be back?” he asked again. “I am afraid there is no Lady of the house my Lord,” she replied. Ren lifted an eyebrow in response, hoping more information would be forthcoming. The girl obliged. “The Lady died some years back.” “There is only the Master and myself now”, she said simply. “I see”, said Ren, trying to hold back his growing frustration. Snoke would have his head if he didn’t return with the document today. He tried another tactic. “Perhaps I haven’t been making myself clear.” “Lord Snoke, Master of Supremacy Manor, has sent me to collect a document this morning from Mr Pluett.” “He has made it very clear that he requires the document today and I am to retrieve it for him.” “I therefore would like it very much if I could speak to your Master, as I have traveled at length and with difficulty from the West side of London just see him.” “The document is required without delay,” he added for emphasis. Ren stared at the girl with his most persuasive look, one that said do not dare to disappoint me. The girl squared her shoulders in response, standing a little taller and setting her mouth into a thin line. “I am afraid it is impossible”, she said with a slight glare. “As I have already mentioned my Lord, the Master is indisposed to receive guests at this time and….” Without waiting for her to finish, Ren brushed past her and into the hall. She gasped aloud at the intrusion and his lack of propriety. “Where IS he?”, he growled, turning to see if he could catch sight of him, his cloak swishing angrily behind him. The girl stood looking at him wide eyed at his shocking breech of protocol, as he turned again to face her and took a step closer. Commendably, however, she did not retreat or even flinch as he towered over her. “As I told you, the Master is not receiving visitors at this time”, she said sternly up at him, “and he most certainly is not lending out manuscripts. He wouldn’t do so, even if he was well.” Ren took another step closer to her, until he was so close she could almost feel his breath on her face. “You know I can take whatever I want?”, he said in a dangerously low voice. “I am trying to do this in the easiest way possible,” he snarled. He could feel the anger rising within him and he was suddenly conscious of the weight of his dagger in his coat pocket. “Get out of this house,” she said firmly in response, all pretense of propriety gone. But Ren simply ignored her, striding into the closest room, determined to flush out the mysterious Mr Pluett. 

The room he entered just happened to be the sitting room. He cast his eye around the room quickly, assessing it to be empty, and had just turned to leave when his gaze fell upon some papers on the desk in the corner. He strode over to take a closer look. There was a Latin manuscript on it and the beginning of a copy on parchment. Ren bent closer to study the script. The work was lovely, written in a fine hand and a very good likeness to the original. He straightened up in surprise and turned to the girl, all malice gone from his expression. “Whose work is this?” he said in amazement, feeling his anger start to drain. “It is mine”, she said quietly. “You did this?” Ren asked again, bending again to look down at the parchment, before glancing back up at the girl. “It is lovely work.” “You have done a fine job.” The girl colored slightly in response but did not speak. Ren reconsidered his approach. “Look”, he said, “Perhaps we have gotten off on the wrong foot.” “My name is Ren, Kylo Ren”. “I also do manuscript work for Lord Snoke, which is the reason why he sent me.” “I am his apprentice… of sorts”, his voice faded, unwilling to describe his actual position in the household. “Lord Snoke was hoping to borrow the manuscript from Mr Pluett so I could produce a copy for him.” “He has quite an interest in old documents,” he went on, now feeling lame and out of his depth. Why had he been so abrupt? The girl continued to look at him silently… warily. Ren sighed and ran one hand through his hair. Usually he’d just resort to his dagger at this point but for some strange reason he had a strong feeling that he should try to salvage this situation. “Could I perhaps ask why your father is indisposed,” he tried again. The girl paused, a strange expression flickering just briefly across her face. “Mr Pluett is not my father,” she said quietly. “I am his ward.” “I have no parents” she finished, looking down at the floor, cheeks coloring again. “I see”, said Ren, feeling a brief flicker of emotion. He knew what that felt like. “He is very ill”, she continued, “and not expected to live to the Spring.” “I am sorry”, Ren said gently. “Don’t be”, she replied angrily, “he was a horrible human being, and this is a fitting end for him.” Ren raised an eyebrow in response, shocked at her forthrightness, but she returned her gaze to the floor.

“Well,” he said gently,” “is there any way that we might be able to come to an arrangement?” “I need to bring Lord Snoke the document he requires… and if Mr Pluett is ill, perhaps you wouldn’t mind if I borrowed it for a brief time?” “I would of course keep it safe and take all the necessary precautions.” “And you would be compensated accordingly.” The girl shook her head vehemently. “He would kill me if he found out”, she said simply. “I am not even allowed to browse his collection without his expressed permission.” “Well, then we are at an impasse”, Ren said with a sad smile, internally flinching at having to return to Snoke empty handed. “No, my Lord,” she paused and lifted her gaze from the floor, seemingly coming to a decision. “There might be another way.” He raised his eyebrow again. “If you were willing to transcript the document here, then there would be no need for me to account for the manuscript if, one day by chance, he happened to request it.” “There are ample rooms here where you could find a quiet place to work and no one would disturb you. There is only myself and Pluett. The house has no staff as such." No staff, Ren thought to himself. Then Pluett must be in financial strife indeed. He wondered if Pluett was using the girl as a substitute for house staff and, if so, what kind of arrangement had been made. Ren looked at the girl closely. Was there some kind of impropriety at play here? She was looking at him hesitantly… almost fearfully, which, given his angry outburst before and the life she must have had under Pluett, was understandable. He felt a tinge of regret, something rare and a little uncomfortable. Looking more closely at her he noticed for the first time her large brown eyes, framed by delicate black lashes. She looked sincere in her offer; there did not seem to be trickery or hidden intentions behind it. Of course, Snoke wouldn’t be pleased with this arrangement, but perhaps he could be persuaded that it was a good compromise. It might also be nice to have a bit of company while he worked for a change. There were certainly ways the girl might improve her technique if she would be open to let him teach her. “We have a deal” he said, offering her his gloved hand. She took it cautiously but firmly. “We have a deal” she concurred.

Sinking back into the seat of the carriage he had hailed to take him back to Supremacy Manor, Ren let his mind wander. He was feeling much more relaxed now than he had been for the past day or so. The sense of dread that had been hanging over him had been replaced by calm, even anticipation. He put that down to the start of the new project. Even, perhaps, to the change of scene. He’d never worked anywhere except in his own quarters. Snoke generally discouraged him from making use of the rest of the house. Pluett’s sitting room was fairly miserable as far as the fashionable trimmings he’d once been used to went, but still it had a warm, somewhat comfortable feel to it. It was almost homely, with its soft furnishings and vases filled with flowers. The fire had been lit too. Although he was loath to admit it, he was also a little curious about the girl. What had brought her to Pluett and why was she living with him instead of a family member? She clearly wasn’t happy about the arrangement. Had her parents died or was there some other reason why she’d been separated from them? With a start Ren realised that he hadn’t even thought to ask her name. He inwardly cursed himself. His isolation had inevitably robbed him of many social graces. Perhaps he could ask Snoke? He’d clearly had dealings with Pluett before and he usually made it his business to know everything there was about a client. He might even be able to tell him more about the girl’s story and put his curiosity to rest, if he played his cards right and didn’t show too much interest…


	3. Sic semper tyrannis (Thus always to tyrants)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ren is quickly reminded of the consequences of failing Snoke but is undeterred from the arrangement he has made with Rey

You… Will… Not… Fail… Me… Again… The timing of Snoke’s words kept pace with the heavy fall of the leather strap against his back. He kept his head bowed before the leather armchair he was kneeing in front of and bit the inside of his cheek as the blows fell. He knew that any sound, any sign of protest or, God forbid, weakness, would only prolong his punishment. He trembled as the leather cord bit into his skin, but he knew he must stay in control, not let Snoke see his pain. His fear. The welts bubbling up on his skin felt like naked flame touching him, and he could feel blood beginning to trickle, mixing with his sweat, as the strap sliced through the air with a rhythmic crack… crack… crack. He was desperate to cry out. He could feel the groan deep inside him, wanting to get out, to break into the open, to release the anguish. He so desperately wanted to release it. But he couldn’t. I must try and think of something else, he thought, reaching for anything that might distract him. Images of his work came to his mind. He could see smooth ink flowing from his quill onto the paper. He watched the pen’s movements, up and down, then right as he formed the letter h. Halatio – breath. He breathed in, then out again, slowing down his breathing. He could see the finished page. The symmetry of the paragraphs, the gold foil he had used on the first letter – V – vita – life. But now the images were blurring. Black smudged around the edges of his vision. This is bad, he thought. I’m going to pass out. Snoke always continued the punishment the next day if he fainted. 

Abruptly, however, the blows halted. 

“What I fail to understand…”, Snoke boomed “is why you did not take your weapon to the girl if she refused you the manuscript, as you said.” “It is not like you to stay your hand Ren.” “Why?” Snoke demanded. On the edge of unconsciousness, he tried to remember why he had come to the arrangement with the girl. But all he could think of, at that moment, was her eyes looking back at him, challenging him to just try and take the manuscript without her permission. It had been a long time since someone had stood up to him like that. 

“The manuscript belongs to her foster father”, he eventually managed to whisper beneath his clenched teeth. “I did not wish to harm her unnecessarily.” Snoke tilted his head like a bird, considering the words of his apprentice. “You have compassion for her”, he said after a moment. “Beware compassion Ren, it is a weakness”. He lifted up the strap again to continue his lesson. “She also seems to have some talent of her own”, he added. “I thought she may be useful.” “Is that so”, Snoke paused, considering the new information and his apprentice’s conclusion. “We will see…”

Darkness eventually overwhelmed him and when he woke, he was lying on the floor of the throne room, stiff and cold. The lamps had been snuffed and Snoke was no where to be seen. Warily he tried to sit up, but his body was having none of that, so with a groan he rolled onto his side. The skin across his back still burned and he felt sick. He’d have to try and get back to his room without the servants seeing him. Snoke hated him interacting with the staff and it wouldn’t do for anyone – let alone Hux - to walk in and find him like this. Not to mention if he vomited onto Snoke’s floor rug…. With a great effort he used his elbows, then hands to raise himself up and eventually into standing position. He was unsteady but found that he could walk if he used one hand to support himself against the wall.

Back in his room, he eased himself down onto his bed, lying on his stomach. Snoke’s question was fair. Why had he sought to appease the girl rather than employing his usual arsenal of intimidation and fear? He’d been refused manuscripts often enough in the past but usually a quick glance down at his dagger was enough to get the document Snoke required. He rarely had to actually draw the weapon. He wondered if that would have worked with the girl. She didn’t seem the type to be intimidated. Was the instinct that had stayed his hand compassion? He wasn’t sure he’d felt compassion before. Pity maybe, but not compassion. But the girl was certainly not weak. She didn’t deserve his pity. On the contrary, he kind of admired her courage. He could feel grim determination radiating from her even before he had requested the document. Exhaustion was beginning to sink in so he let him mind begin to slide towards oblivion. The only good thing to have come from tonight was that Snoke had not put a stop to the arrangement he had with the girl. He hadn’t even mentioned it, which meant that he was free to see her again. 

He was curious about her, it was true. She was something new. Something to break the usual monotony his life had become.


End file.
